This goes out to all my hood people out there.
In zones, in wards, in burrows we live, and strive to survive
you call them hoods but we call them homes
you fear to drive through them, while we wish to live through them
you glance at them and grimace with disgust, we stare at them and smile with hope
stars glamourize the dispair they faced while sitting in our shoes, our residents just live in it, making the best of our dealt hand
A house with 3 rooms is packed to capacity
a full size refridgerator is fully empty, it matches our stomachs
we heat the house with an applaince that cooks our imaginary food
head to toe we sleep, hand to mouth we live
We only dream of escaping this destiny of just enough
so we resort to means that would disgust most but encourage others
selling the ame thing that caused mom to leaves on the doorstep of grandma's house
slinging to the same group that broke in the house last week
defending to the death the same thing that is killing our brothers and sisters
we only see ourselves in the results and we ignore the ones we step on in our attempt to escape
We decline the help of those who hurt us
our family has been wronged and all we see is the equal reprecussion
again and again we step into somebody's trap
the only escape is looked over and treated as plan
We witness our brothers taken from us but nobody ever sees anything
we are taught to stay blind
a blind eye to what can hurt us and an open eye to our own oppurtunities
what are our other options, watch with open eyes
and share the same fate, someody must stand up
In theses zones, wards, and burrows we are bornand in these same zones, wards, and burrows they want us to die
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